


Onyx

by onestepatatime



Series: Dwarven Theater in My Head [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-03 01:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onestepatatime/pseuds/onestepatatime
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is just a bartender in the flashy gaming town of Michel Delving. When an odd sight begins to appear all over the world, no one knows what to think of it. All Bilbo knows is that government agents don't care what he is; they want an artifact of his parents that is somehow related to the odd floating spiral that finally settles in Antarctica of all places. There is no way that he is giving anybody anything, and he sends the agents on a wild goose chase. Sorry, Drogo.Thorin is captain of the Istari class long range research vessel Kunzek. Gandalf is the mental impression of a long dead genius that runs the state of the art ship. Thorin personally thinks of him as an overbearing busybody, but he and his clan of generation ship travelers accept the geological mission to survey distant planets and bring back samples of valuable natural resources to possibly mine in the future.Something goes wrong and Thorin finds his entire home continent covered in ice. In fact, none of the bases are answering his hail. Reluctantly he agrees with Gandalf and parks his ship full of valuable samples from across the galaxy over an ice field and waits to see what happens.





	1. Introducing our first stubborn dunderhead.

**Author's Note:**

> Onyx - a variety of chalcedony with alternating black and white parallel bands, used as a gemstone.
> 
> Kunzek - stone.
> 
> Source for Khuzdul is http://midgardsmal.com/neo-khuzdul-glossary/
> 
> Legal Disclaimer: All trademarks and copyrights are owned by their respective owners. I make no profit from this story.

“Dr. Baggins?” The words were just a bit too hesitant to be respectful, even if the two men in impeccable suits wore deferential expressions as they came up to the bar.

“Not him.” Bilbo had served many different types of customers in the Gold Lounge at the glitzy Nugget Heaven hotel and casino in world famous Michel Delving. He also knew when someone was not a customer and therefore wasn’t worth his time.

“You are Bilbo Baggins?” the second man tried. He discreetly opened a wallet showing some federal agency shield.

“Talk isn’t cheap when it doesn’t fill my tip jar. What’s your order, gentlemen?” Bilbo tapped a clear jar full of dollar bills. “Time is money. I only talk to customers. So what’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a Mai Tai for myself and my partner will have a Manhattan.” The second man, older with salt and pepper hair, smirked. His partner, obviously younger with red hair, tried to object, but the elder held up a hand. “We’re here to get answers, so we’ll play your game, Dr. Baggins.”

Bilbo smirked at the idea of them ordering two of the five hardest drinks to make. He easily whipped up the Mai Tai and served it. “Not yellow or orange, but tan. One Mai Tai.”

“Here’s a nice, bitter vermouth mixed with just the right amount of our fine house whiskey, and voila! You have our house specialty.” The Manhattan was delivered with a flourish as the younger man reluctantly joined the first.

“Excellent!” The elder took a generous swig of his drink. Bilbo frowned; a well-made drink should be enjoyed, not chugged down like a cheap beer. “Dr. Baggins, we believe that you are in possession of…”

“Ah ah! Time is money, gentlemen.” Bilbo smiled as he tapped the tip jar.

“Fine.” The younger man threw in a $5, tried his drink, and then threw in a $10. “I’ll have another.”

“As you wish.” Bilbo nodded deferentially and soon had the second Manhattan served. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, but everyone knows that. I’m also not a doctor anything. I don’t know what you want, but I’m just a bartender. I’m also in possession of nothing but my uniforms, some second hand store clothing, and furniture bought second hand. I’m not married, no kids, nada. So what do you want to know?”

The elder, Agent Taagen, Bilbo easily recalled from the quick idea flash, had only taken the one sip. He pulled the second half finished drink away from his slightly inebriated partner, Agent Escaar. One had to have sharp eyes and a fast mind to stay alive in this city. One also knew that the Rivendell International Enforcement Agency was not to be messed with.

“I see that our lead was incorrect, Mr. Baggins.”

“Does this have to do with the upside down spiral mountain floating across the world?” Bilbo had seen footage of it on the news in the sports bar, but he didn’t own a TV himself and didn’t care if aliens were invading. Everyone liked a good drink; he would be fine.

“Classified.” Agent Escaar slurred the word a bit.

“My parents were both Dr. Baggins, as well as my cousin Drogo.” Bilbo knew that Drogo was going to kill him, though Primula would have a big laugh at both their expense when they beat the snot out of each other.

“Oh?” Agent Taagen took out a small notepad and pen. Smart, Bilbo thought. There was no way that he would have continued if a modern voice recorder had been brought out.

“My father, Dr. Bungo Baggins, was a cartographer specializing in rare maps. He died about fifteen years ago in a car accident. Mom was Dr. Belladonna Baggins. She was an anthropologist, you could say. Her interests were a bit varied, but all related to human history. You probably have me mixed up with my cousin Drogo Baggins. He got the PhD, not me.” Bilbo stalled and carefully watched both men’s interest rise as they looked meaningfully at each other.

“Do you by chance have any of your parents’ notebooks or possibly any artifacts?” Agent Escaar finally remembered to do his job and ask questions.

“Mom gave all of Dad’s stuff to his colleagues after he died; he was working with two other professors on writing a paper. I was little and can’t remember Dad ever bringing anything home beyond the occasional toy car for me. Don’t recall their names either, though they worked at the main campus of Ered Luin University.” Bilbo shook himself and smiled as he helped another customer. It was a moment before he got back.

“Where was I?” He innocently bumped the tip jar.

“Your mother?” Agent Taagen frowned, but put a $1 in the jar.

“Mom died five years ago from a malignant brain tumor. She was not herself the last year and she didn’t mention her work in her will. I gave all of her notes and her collection of junk to Drogo. I’m just a bartender; I didn’t need it. Maybe Drogo donated the stuff to a museum or something. Anything else, gentlemen?”

“This Drogo Baggins’ whereabouts?” Agent Taagen sigh and asked the obvious question.

“Last thing I heard was he got his doctorate and a wife about two years ago and flitted of to a teaching position at Iron Hills University.” Bilbo hid a satisfied smile. The country of Mordor, which was where the university was located, was not friendly toward international agencies, not at all.

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Baggins.” Agent Taagen sigh and put away his notepad. Agent Escaar, tongue loosened by a bit too much whiskey perhaps, frowned and leaned close to Bilbo.

“You’re certain that your parents never had a copy of the Oronteus Finaeus Map, the Piri Reis Map, or the Gore Map?” Agent Taagen hissed with displeasure and pulled Escaar out of his seat.

“I’m just a bartender, gentlemen. Mom dumped Dad’s stuff before I could even read. I didn’t even look at her stuff; Drogo cleaned out her study. Good day.”

Seeing that the purposely obtuse bartender was done, the agents finished their drinks and left.

Of course. Bilbo thought, pleased as they left. My drinks are the best.


	2. Our dunderhead introduction continued.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is a rebellious dunderhead courtesy of the Baggins Family.

 

Bilbo ignored the others as he joined the great wave of casino employees leaving out the back entrance. It was a cool spring night and he zipped up the green and gold coat eblazened with the casino’s name across the back in lavish embroidery. Let no one say that being dressed by one’s employer from head to toe was an insult. Being employed at the Nugget Heaven meant that you were outstanding in whatever your job was, and Bilbo could do many jobs there.

Though vastly different in temperament, the Took and Baggins families had both been founding clans of the Shire. Both had prestige, wealth, and a long line of important and highly intelligent family members. The difference in temperament? Well, that could be explained by using Bilbo as the example, for both families had big plans for the near perfect child with the adorable face of his mother and the shrewd mind for numbers of his father.

The Baggins clan made up for the Took family’s greater wealth with respectability, prestige, and a bad habit of gloating over every Baggins’ wonderful achievements. Placid Bungo had been groomed to take his place as a vice president in the Baggins vast financial empire, whether it be as a bank vice president or a financer in one of their stock companies. It didn’t matter, as long as Bungo’s choice fell within the narrow margins of what the Baggins’ patriarch considered proper. Then Bungo had met Belladonna Took when she sat next to him on the airplane taking him to his second year of college.

The Baggins family had nearly come as a group and dragged Bungo back home when he changed his major from finance to they didn’t care what it was. They did come when they heard of his engagment, just in time to attend his wedding! What a day that was when a bunch of uptight Baggins met a bunch of jovial Tooks. Bilbo still couldn’t believe some of the photos in the wedding album!

The young couple was welcomed by the Tooks and ostracized by the Baggins for several years. They didn’t care, as they had agreed to ignore both families demands to have children right away. Tooks were impatient to find out what kind of child they would have, and the Baggins? They were hoping for a replacement for Bungo as soon as possible. Instead both had pushed aside life’s demands until they got their masters degrees, and finally their doctorates. Bungo had gotten his PhD two years before Donna did, but she had finally taken some time away from academia to have her first and only child.

This led to an end of university trips and internships around the world and in the most unlikely of places. Now Bungo needed a teaching position in a place that would pay to support his little family, and where Donna could finish her own doctorate. This was where their worldwide connections came in very handy. For the Baggins had literally paid in donations for a position at Bywater University right next to them in the Shire. The extended family, relieved that they could finally brag about their wayward son, could finally brag about a fine grandson and Bungo’s doctorate, despite being about maps and not interest rates. The maps were worth lots of money, and Bilbo? Well, he could and would be a proper Baggins with their close and personal attention to his upbringing.

Bungo had shown his rarely remembered temper and stubborn streak when Donna had burst into tears at the news that Bywater University had no opportunities in getting her degree, much less a teaching position. Nor had the fact that Bywater was founded by and filled with the most strict and staunch Baggins clan members. Swallowing his pride enough to ask Donna’s Took relations for money, Bungo had stolen his very pregnant wife off to the Blue Mountains and accepted the first position offered.

It had been a very happy life for a decade or so, if Bilbo believed all of his Took cousins tales, and his hazy memory. Bungo had impressed the school with his papers and research, being offered tenure shortly after Bilbo’s eight birthday. Then Bungo’s car had hydroplaned off of a winding mountain road on his way to a conference shortly before Bilbo’s ninth birthday and the vultures had descended.

With the Baggins clan demanding that she give up her career to come home to the Baggins estate to nurture poor lost Bilbo better, Donna had moved back to the small town of Hobbiton. This was where Bungo had made her a summer cottage that they could retire to one day. Despite her odd degree, her many minor degrees had let her take a position as a high school science teacher. Her teacher’s salary along with a tutoring side business had let her and Bilbo settle into the quiet little town in Bag End.

Happy, if not somewhat sorrowful over the loss of Bungo, was how the two could describe the next decade. Donna enjoyed the support of several cousins already living in Hobbiton, but a few Baggins living there gave her daily headaches as she fought to give Bilbo a childhood without the Baggins clan strangling his childish wonder with their plans of him being Bungo’s replacement.

These headaches had taken a serious turn when Bilbo was nineteen. He had just finished midterms his second year of college in Frogmorton. He never returned for his junior year to care for Donna as the rapidly spreading tumor put her in a wheelchair, stole her speech, and finally her life.

Instead of supporting Bilbo in his grief, the Baggins clan had taken advantage of the fact that Donna the buffer was gone. They had enrolled Bilbo in Bywater University with a Baggins cousin, Otho, as his roommate even. Standing in the now too quiet Bag End with its unfufilled promises of siblings and grandchildren filling it with happy chaos and noise, Bilbo had screamed obscenities as he chased them away. Locking up Bag End, he had fled to a place no Baggins would dare to go near, much less live in.

Working two fast food jobs, Bilbo had gone to dealer school. Yeah, only in Michel Delving would this be called a school. Not a fan of fast action, Bilbo had turned down several dealer positions to go to bartender school. Fascinated by the actual science behind the pomp, flare, and getting the drinks just right, he had found that he enjoyed the somewhat slower pace and one on one service. Treating his customers as Donna had adored her students; Bilbo had easily earned a reputation that got him an offer to work in the Gold Lounge.

“So what’s this I heard about feds visiting you tonight?” Bilbo’s neighbor Dan joined him in the elevator of the high rise they lived in a block away from work. They were just efficiency apartments, but the neighborhood was a deal safer than in places where Bilbo could afford a real house or decent sized apartment. Besides, Donna had always been an advocate of exercise and not polluting with a car when one could.

“Poor police work. They were looking for my parents who died years ago. Good tippers, though.” Bilbo shrugged and got out on his floor. His boss hadn’t questioned him, so he wasn’t worried about the incident. What could he say anyway? That they had liked their drinks so much that they had ordered two and been great tippers? It was hardly material for a verbal reprimand, much less a written one. He hadn’t had any write ups in six months and intended to keep it that way.

“Coming to my sister’s for the game on Saturday? It’s a cookout.” Dan held the elevator door open with a hand.

“Sure.” Bilbo was aware of Dan’s other, unmarried sister. It didn’t matter. Bilbo had finally followed his boss’ advice to “socialize” with coworkers to lessen the chance of having tension between them. Breaking the fingers of one’s hand on the face of one too many other employees had finally mellowed his stubborn streak, even if he was a vegetarian and hated baseball. It was hard to mix a proper drink with various digits covered in finger splints.

 

 

Bilbo's efficiency apartment.

Source: pinterest.com/pin/366480488400707101/

 


	3. Let's meet a busybody and dunderhead number two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally home from a few centuries of work and...Where did all of this ice come from? Hello?

“There is no answer from the Orocarni Mountains as well. Not Nithrin, Courose, or Mogin?” He swallowed; at least it felt like swallowing, as his mind was attached to an illusion made by a projector. But the reactions were real; Nithrin had been manned by his cousin’s great grandson when he was last on Arda.

“No.” Gandalf’s voice was old. He had been ancient when his voice was recorded, and would forever sound as such: a deep, hollow sound that echoed on the empty deck. For all of the seats were empty, with what remained of his kin safe and still asleep.

“So you’ve traveled around the world without waking me…” He had never liked Gandalf’s bossy ways.

“Investigating on your behalf. Do keep in mind that it is I who run this ship while you sleep.”

“Do keep in mind that it is I and my family who do all of the hard work on each planet, moon, or asteroid.” He snipped back. It was old habit by now to argue with what amounted to a metal board full of gem chips.

“Protocol for landing was followed. Find a safe landing site that meets our needs, and then begin the procedures for landing and offloading.” Gandalf wasn’t fazed, as always. He had enough pride and then some to not care that he didn’t have a body. He was in command of every aspect of this fine ship, wasn’t he?

“A glacier is not a landing site, Gandalf.” He mentioned the obvious as he looked at a projection of down below. It was nothing but ice with a few brave mountain peaks braving a bitter nonstop wind.

All other appropriate, and I dare say all not on this continent, bases have been wiped out by an unknown factor. Dakor Base is the only one here not damaged beyond use, so I have set us here.”

“It is covered by five ships lengths of ice. I doubt that anyone is waiting for us.”

“Dakor is in a valley behind a mountain that takes the brunt of the glacier’s weight and movement. It is an appropriate landing site, though I do admit that you are right about the chances of it being occupied.”

“We are in dire straits, Gandalf. We have less than half a crew and half of those that we do have are but children.” He swallowed again, the loss of so many was unheard of and still a burning pain in his throat. His father should be returning as the triumphant captain, their ship filled with valuable ores from dozens of places. They should have made enough of a profit to have their own fleet own of ships, minus Gandalf as his grandfather had vowed.

Now he was wishing that his grandfather had listened to Gandalf a bit more often over say, Morzen and Arctilen. The losses in crew numbers had allowed their supplies to last a few more places, if one didn’t mind twice as much work with fewer specialists. Their return to Arda had been bittersweet, and now they had nothing to return to.

“A base under a glacier is no place for families, Gandalf.”

“We are too low in supplies to waken a skeleton crew and the children cannot remain in hibernation forever.”

“Are you going to finally tell me what has happened, Gandalf?” He felt helpless and at least the computer could be decent enough to give a reason for this tragedy.

"It appears that an ice age in the last ten thousand or so years wiped out most of mankind, erasing all of what we know of as civilization. Men restarted from caves and stone tools, I’m afraid.”

“I doubt that. We survived the last ice age just fine. Our civilization has lasted 200,000 years, Gandalf. We’ve been exploring the galaxy for eons. Surely one of the colonies has sent an envoy? Something?”

“The two colonies that I refuel on were deserted. No others that I flew within communications range had detectable messages or communications of any kind. Hence, I came to Dakor; it seemed the only safe option. We have nowhere else to go, captain.”

“What of the other ships?”

“I detected several crash beacons broadcasting a complete loss over the years.”

“We were supposed to return to Arda after 300 years, Gandalf. The extra supplies gave us only fifteen more years. Where have we been for eons?”

“I don’t know” Gandalf had the rare tone of being contrite, and the captain had learned to be alarmed at that tone.

“What?” His voice was entirely too calm.

“My sensors have records of the entire journey, but my consciousness records a gap of several eons. It was the proximity to Torpin Base that allowed a reboot, if you would call it that, of my system.”

“Someone turned you off so that we would crash? Impossible! We are all kin.”

“Or a command was hidden in my core programming. I would say that is why so many other ships had collisions on a catastrophe level. This is another reason to choose Dakor, I can’t say for certain if there is other hidden malicious programming. I would choose to have the crew offload before landing.”

“After we clear a sea’s worth of ice over the landing field.” He hadn’t thought that things could get even more troubling, but his life was like that, wasn’t it?

“The support columns are still intact, though they may need reinforced. I can hover while offloading our shipment so as to lighten their load. But we cannot afford to leave Arda, captain. We have few supplies, I need to refuel. We also need a new crew and must replace our load with colonizing supplies if we are to go elsewhere.”

“Arda is the only place with men left?” What had driven their civilization to extinction and its members into caves on one planet?

“Arda is the cradle of our birth and now our rebirth, yes.” Leave it to Gandalf to be poetic over something so morose.

“Fine. We’ll just hover here over a block of ice as you ferret out any more hidden commands.” There was little else to do. He would not risk what was the only remnant of their technological birthright. “Perhaps this civilization has advanced enough for our needs.”

“They have unfortunately not overcome the tendancy to war with each other and their science has not advanced enough to overcome poverty, drought, and disease. I dare say that they will see us as an invading threat, not as a son coming home.”

“We need them. We will wait and let them make the first move.”

“Do I have your permission to question the subconscious minds of the crew?” Gandalf sounded contrite again. The tone made him hold back a bark of indignation.

“Yes. After you try to find any hidden commands. After.” He looked out over the vast ice fields and tried to envision the beautiful valley below green and lush, surrounded by majestic mountains. Dakor was not Erebor, but nothing would ever quite replace their lost home.

 

This picture is close to what I have in mind as to what the sleeping pods look like on the Kunzek.

Source: http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/Cryonics


	4. Pictures of items to be described thoroughout the story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know that I will be describing these items, but pictures give you a better idea of the complex ideas. I know that some constellations shown are of the wrong sky for Antartica, and that Roman Numerals weren't invented in Thorin's time. Please give the pictures some artistic license and use them as a basis for your own idea of what is being described.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringment is intended. All sources are listed. Picture use is for entertainment purposes with no profit gained.

 

Bilbo's silver memento ring that he got from his mother's collection of "junk" that she got from around the world.

Source: https://www.etsy.com/listing/228656575/stunning-human-face-silver-ring-sterling

 

Thorin's beard bead, symbolizing his oaken shield.

Source: https://www.etsy.com/listing/293233369/rustic-celtic-viking-beard-bead-dread?ref=listing-shop-header-3

 

Thorin's name/ephitaph ring of an oak tree.

Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/359302876501943769/

 

The onyx bangles that Thorin wears.

Source: grandtalent.net/jewelry-gifts/bracelets/bangles-agate/bangle-black-striped-onyx.html

 

The crew member amulet that Thorin wears. His has the additional amethyst gem.

Source: bestamulets.com/Lucky-Gemstones-Crystal-Pendants/Universe-Positive-Energy-Amulet-Silver-Triple-Lucky-Crystal-Point-Wands-Crystal-Quartz-Amethyst-Black-Onyx-Pendant-Necklace12835/

 

The standard crew member amulet with quartz and onyx crystals. It's what the crew uses to access different areas of the ship, for communications, and for use by Gandalf to track his forever getting lost Khazad clan members whether on or off of the ship.

etsy.com/listing/249566515/12k-filled-gold-individual-amulet-double?ref=market

 

Thorin's signet ring passed down from Thror and Thrain. It signifies that he is captain and allows him to command the ship even if Gandalf were to be incapacitated.

Source: pinterest.com/josultem/signet-ring/

 

Thorin's Durin clan forearm tattoo, showing Erebor with the Long Lake and the planets. It shows their lost home and the planets signify that they are now a wandering generation ship clan.

Source: pinterest.com/pin/460493130629577888

 

As Balin is navigator, he bears a star map tattoo on his back. This looks like a tattoo, but all of their star maps are encoded into the simple design in case of damage to the ship's records.

Source: danbones.tumblr.com/page/58


	5. Relocation and expansion headaches.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin mourns the loss of a good chunk of Middle Earth. Gandalf moves house. Permanent plans are mulled over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link to a map for those not familiar with all of the lands east of the Blue Mountains that were covered by the sea before the Third Age.
> 
> https://tolkienfacts.files.wordpress.com/2015/04/combomap.jpg

Thorin shivered as his projection phased in and out of focus for a moment. He rubbed his forehead to stave off a headache that he knew didn’t exist. “What activity have your to report, Gandalf?”

“I report to no one, as you very well know.” Gandalf’s tone was chiding, without an edge, so this must be somewhat good news. “I wish to inform you of my plans to refuel, as it will require the help of several crew members.”

“You said that all of the refuel points were wiped out.” Thorin brought up an ancient map of Arda and superimposed it on a modern map. Much land had been lost and the Ered Luin located in the middle of Eriador were now on the west coast.

“I took the liberty of a bit of exploring.” Gandalf now added his newest travels to the map. They were currently over a vast ocean. “The Isle of Balar is directly below us. The raw ore deposits for tashfati are still intact at the Gates of Sirion in the Andram Mountain Range. We could…”

“I told you to stay put.” Thorin hissed his displeasure.

“Antarctica has nothing for us. We need this population’s help and they cannot properly reach us in such a harsh environment.”

“They may have war ships with missiles that can reach us if the Kunzec submerges. Do we even have enough fuel to attempt such a maneuver, Gandalf?” Thorin wasn’t about to put his ship in danger in any way, shape, or form.

“For a week, yes. It will not give us a full reserve of ore, but…” Gandalf didn’t sound thrilled about the idea of going underwater. They had several smaller vessels better designed for submerged travel, but they were not sufficient for the task ahead of them.

“Give me other options then. If you actually liked this idea, then you would have started following the conversion protocol hours ago.”

“North of the Ered Luin there is a deposit of tashfati on the peninsula of the Ice Bay of Forochel. It is a remote location in what I now believe they call the Northern Waste. The area around what was Iscor Base never left the last ice age apparently and has been left virtually untouched by what is now considered modern civilization.”

“Iscor?” A wave and tap of Thorin’s hand brought that area of the map up in closer detail. Indeed, there were no human settlements not located on the shores of the peninsula. The southern interior was also of a polar climate that they had experienced on several other worlds. His doubts made Gandalf continue.

“The climate of Antarctica was too taxing on our fuel levels. With a fully fueled ship, we can access Dakor Base and get the colonizing supplies that we need. I suggest that we settle on Oncaron for a few centuries. Perhaps a discreet sharing of technology will speed up this civilization’s progress enough for us to return in the near future.” Gandalf was being the disgustingly optimistic planner again.

“Did you find any hidden commands?” It was up to Thorin to remember the heavy details. Gandalf was no longer mortal and could forget threats, hence a live captain for each ship. “Did you interrogate any crew members’ subconscious mind?”

“I’ve ‘inquired’ of every mind on this ship. Gently, of course.” Gandalf added before Thorin ordered him to delete himself, though that wasn’t truly possible.

“You are an ugrûd to work with.” Thorin wondered what blackmail material Gandalf was saving from Dwalin’s memories. “What of the hidden command that you were so worried about?”

“It takes three weeks to access and unlock every section of my programming. There are 15 days…”

“I know metals; you know numbers.” Thorin had originally been a junior science officer at the tender age of 24 when the Kunzec was first commissioned. The science of metallurgy was Thorin’s first love, not command status so soon after being hastily promoted to senior officer rank following their gravest losses on Arctilen.

“We need to know tashfati.” Gandalf sigh at the too often used harping term. Certain types of coal could be mined and refined by coal liquefaction in an oil refining process that made one of several solid rocket fuels that the Kunzec could use. It wasn’t the fuel of choice, but it could get the ship to their last refuel point if they chose a colony world farther away.

“We will make secure contact with the population before beginning any process.” Thorin stood firm, plans now decided. “We will prove that we are not a threat, and then begin the ore extraction.”

“We need new crew personnel, Thorin. The clan gene pool is too small if we are to exit to a colony for a time.”

“Men are curious to a fault, Gandalf.” Thorin looked out over the waters as the ship began to move. “They will come to us and we will simply take what we need.”

“I doubt that they will agree, Thorin. You sound much like Thror at the moment.”

“I know the greed of men. They will willingly come. We just need to sort out what we need. Once you land the ship, send out a message of welcome.”

“What sort of welcome did you have in mind?” Gandalf’s tone was half amused, half disturbed. He was programmed not to take sentient samples, but this was crisis management. The ship’s sense of survival could override certain protocols dealing with not interfering with native populations.

“Lights? Prime numbers? I’m certain that you can figure out a simple algorithm to catch their attention, eh?” Thorin shrugged before settling back to watch their landing. He wasn’t about to trust Gandalf to follow his wishes and not start waking crew members. He would keep everyone safely in their cryo chambers in case a quick escape was needed.

“Prime numbers indeed. Hmmph.” Gandalf went silent the rest of the trip. Thorin couldn’t help a grin, even if it wasn’t real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tashfati - Khuzdul for the verb "to move". It is the name of the refined coal used to make solid rocket fuel that is used by the Kunzec.
> 
> ugrûd - fear/dread - in effect, Gandalf is a nightmare to work with.
> 
> Here is the rocket fuel page if anyone is interested.  
> wiki.factorio.com/Light_oil


	6. Settling in and making plans for a meet and snatch with the new neighbors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big game is interrupted by newscasts of Gandalf's idea of a 'come hither' algorithm. Thorin is not impressed with those who accept the meet and greet invitation.

Thorin shuddered with more than his projection phasing in and out as he came back to consciousness and saw Gandalf’s handiwork. Really, why couldn’t Gandalf just fix the issue? He must want to keep the captain on his toes with uncomfortable reminders of just how much of this ship that he controlled.  Then he shuddered again as he looked out over the fiasco below.

Gandalf had, almost or so-so, landed the ship to hover directly over their mining site. All it would take was a careful descent of ¾ of the ship into the ground for them to be ready to begin accessing the coal deposits. The initial readings promised both anthracite and bituminous coal, mixed and brought closer to the surface by whatever upheaval during the worldwide disaster by a large explosion that made the bay itself. Anthracite was the most desirable with the lowest sulfur level and the most energy output, but Thorin wasn’t moving elsewhere to get more.

“What is this?” Thorin took over control of one of the many scout drones circling the ship. Instead of the hoped for intellectuals, there was no one close to coming to them. A ring of men dressed in some type of warrior uniform holding what he assumed were weapons surrounded the craft.

“More disappointment, I fear.” Gandalf gave a deep sigh as one of the soldiers swatted the drone away like an insect when it circled his head. As if such a cold climate could have insects. Bother; these individuals’ were the take orders without thinking type, not what they needed. The clan could hold their own in a fight, but they prized individual thinking over willingness to take orders. Individual thinking had saved this remnant of their clan, in fact.

“What problem have you given them to measure their civilization’s level of development?” Thorin was not whining. Nope, not a bit. He could use the warriors as simple laborers in the mining process, but messing with their minds to control them like drones involved a disagreeable process.

“A set of drones are illuminating a section of the snow with prime numbers. I’ve also chosen one of the basic algorithms of our technology for further selection of appropriate individuals.” Gandalf showed a section of the ship near the ground that had a panel now carved with a bunch of hands.

“54 and 888?” Thorin thought it a bit simplistic with five hands to represent five, four for four, etc. It didn’t exactly show what they wanted done after the successful deciphering of the numbers. Then again, it was Gandalf’s own algorithm, so he wouldn’t criticize. Perhaps it was a test with two levels, able to select individuals that just needed further education if they could decipher the first part of the test. Thorin wasn’t about to ask for clarification and get a three hour lecture.

“Let’s see what they do with this number.” Gandalf hummed as he used another view of a bunch of individuals approaching the circle of warriors. It was hard to tell ages or gender with the bulky clothing.

“This society has no clue about condensed materials?” Thorin’s coat for the worst cold was a quarter as thick as these garments.

“Hush.” Gandalf had the light display drones cease the show of lights and had them light up the section of ship with his puzzle.

Thankfully, the warriors stayed in place, though Thorin would love to have one of their weapons to analyze. The intellectuals, as he sarcastically thought of them, chattered excitedly as they cautiously approached the slab of metal now on the ground. It was a promising sign that one took note of the drones, until he grabbed it and it crumbled to dust in his crushing grip.

“Ham fisted.” Thorin was getting another pseudo headache.

“Children.” Gandalf’s voice held a tone of disbelief when all they did was try patterns of sticking their own hands in the carved depressions.

“Recall the drones.” Thorin sigh as others tried to do nothing but improvise nets to capture his scouts. “Do what you can to guide them to the right idea. Wake me if someone actually has a brain. If there is nothing in five days’ time, then we commandeer their warriors and begin waking everyone needed for the mining operation.

“Very well.” Gandalf murmured as his mind began assessing their medical level for equipment needed to analyze the warriors’ genetic makeup. They were sturdy; perhaps a few had or at least carried the genes for traits required in the breeding program algorithms.

As for the ‘childish’ individuals down below, Gandalf blew a horn that knocked them off of their feet every time they tried to touch the metal slab. They had begun to look like they were making plans to cart it away. That wasn’t happening; his outer shell of titanium infused with silver steel was not a trinket for a child to slip in his pocket. Indeed!

\----

After a rather handsy hug of welcome by Dan’s unmarried sister, Bilbo skipped a drink to secure a safe seat in the antique rocking chair next to the couch. This way no one could ‘accidentally’ squeeze in next to him, nor sit on the arm. This didn’t keep Dan’s married sister, Danice, from delivering both a beer and her sister, Lana, to his lap.

Bilbo was debating the merits of having more write ups versus enduring Lana’s cooing over his ‘delightful’ curls and ‘dreamy’ blue eyes when the first inning was mercifully interrupted by a news bulletin. He had perfectly drab green eyes, thank you very much!

The newscast was showing a light show in another polar wilderness; the peninsula of the Ice Bay of Forochel, still covered in ice though a weak spring sun tried to shine. Bilbo promptly forgot about Lana chocking him with her arms as he leaned towards the tv. “Prime numbers?”

“Scientists from around the world have converged on the craft now being dubbed ‘The Spiral Maze’, though they have been hindered by armed forces from Evendim. They claim that the craft and all of its technology belongs to them, even as Lindon files a complaint with the World Courts that they have colonized and claimed the northern bay’s peninsula for centuries.”

“Idiots.” Bilbo breathed under his breath to describe both world politics and Dan’s family around him as they laughed uproariously at comments about the craft’s shape. It wasn’t an improvement over their liberal swearing over the game being usurped.

Bilbo deposited Lana in the rocking chair and used the fact of her attention being riveted to the tv to sneak off to the kitchen. He was impressed when he stuck his head out some time later to see that the world governments were claiming to be cooperating, as it usually took weeks or months to agree to anything. He didn’t believe one word of Evendim nor Lindon’s promise to the World Court to share anything learned or gained with all participating scientists’ associated countries.

Evendim may have pledged to use military solely for ‘support’ and ‘relative security’, but Lindon had the greater number of allies with military might as it pledged to organize the scientific effort into a proper research station. No one in the report mentioned who was going to pay for the expensive buildings and supplies needed.

Finally tired of watching endless replays of the prime number light show and droning ‘experts’ commenting on them, Bilbo slipped out of the house as the crowd roared in laughter again as the loud blare rocked the scientists back on their keesters in the snow.

 

**FROM HERE TO THE END IS OPTIONAL READING FOR THOSE WHO WANT A MORE IN DEPTH UNDERSTANDING OF GANDALF'S TEST. IT IS ALSO A GOOD CURE FOR LATE NIGHT INSOMNIA. NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR INTEGER LACED NIGHTMARES. ENJOY!  
**

Why is the Euclidean Algorithm so important? Gandalf and Thorin want candidates that have the mathmatical aptitude to work with computers, as well as desired genetic traits.

Specific equations "can be solved by the Euclidean algorithm... Finding multiplicative inverses is an essential step in the RSA algorithm, which is widely used in electronic commerce; specifically, the equation determines the integer used to decrypt the message."

Source: wikipedia.org

"Recall that the Greatest Common Divisor ( _GCD_ ) of two integers A and B is the largest integer that divides both A and B. The _Euclidean Algorithm_ is a technique for quickly finding the _GCD_ of two integers."

Source: khanacademy.org

Here's the Euclidean algorithm to find the greatest common divisor in a simple flowchart. The flowchart example is for those like me who barely got a passing grade in basic algebra. This algorithm is the basis for internet security and a host of other computer related uses.

Source: conceptdraw.com/a1493c3/preview

 

 

Here is the math problem that Drogo is given in the chapter 8.

Math makes me want to run away screaming. So here is the simplest actual formula writeout that I've found. If you want more detailed information, you can do it.

 Source: www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5gn2hj51hs

 

These are flowcharts of the thinking of Thorin's society. Whether in creating a clan more suitable for generation ship travel or writing a new computer program, they some idea of how Gandalf thinks.

Sources: www.slideshare.net/LukaszMiroslaw/artificial-intelligence-in-biology

www.slideshare.net/EnriqueOnieva/2015-01-stiait2p2geneticalgorithms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some websites that talks about the types of coal and turning it in to energy if anyone is interested.  
> www.stovesonline.co.uk/coal-types.html  
> www.reddit.com/r/factorio/comments/683xbx/is_it_profitable_to_do_coal_liquifaction_to/  
> http://www.southeastcoalash.org/about-coal-ash/coal-ash-reuse/


	7. Our first dunderhead is a worried uncle and short one cousin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misdirecting the Rivendell agents to Drogo backfires when he disappears.

Bilbo ignored the hordes of lost tourists as he pushed through them. He kind of sort of bypassed the no leaflet handout law by stuffing gold embossed business cards into unsuspecting pockets. It was an easy thing to do with bulky coats and tourist eyes riveted to the neon lights and sights. It was all part of the pomp and flare ‘show’ that his instructor had insisted was crucial to being a successful ‘mixologist’. Bilbo considered his own slant a ‘magic’ show as tourists wandered into his lounge and wondered how such a card redeemable for a free drink had gotten into their possession in the first place.

To be caught would certainly involve the rather aggressive police force, but Bilbo never stuck his hands into purses or clothing pockets. He also never, ever gave cards to anyone who appeared underage, though they still tried to get the free drink with their parents’ card. He himself had learned the hard way the necessity of staying sober in such a risky town if one wanted to stay more than a few days. Bilbo had driven more than one alcoholic to the airport himself for their own safety. Too many gangs hovered outside of casino entrances ready to swoop in on a drunk and their wallet.

For once, coming home to his rectangle sweet rectangle apartment was a relief. Glad to get rid of Dan and his relatives, Bilbo celebrated his success with two bottles of beer stolen from Danise’s fridge. Getting comfortable on his bed/not a couch because there was no room, he settled in to watch the local newscasts on his laptop balanced between the kitchen faucet and his coffee maker. After the alien craft had come, Bilbo had broken down on his tv stance enough to buy a tv reception computer program.

Bored into an almost inebriated slumber, it took a few rings for Bilbo to get up and answer his landline phone. He depended on his cellphone and never gave out his landline number. It was for 911 emergencies, as the police had to come when a call hung up, and they would know exactly where he was if he fell or was incapacitated during an unlikely break-in. Bilbo liked to be prepared for the day he would be gagged, bound to a chair, and needed to call. He would be well prepared, thank you. And if the only one who called on this phone regularly was his favorite cousin/nephew, Frodo, then Bilbo would ask you who could resist an adorable 5 year old’s enthusiasm?

“What’s up champ? Did you solve that last puzzle box that I sent you?” Bilbo snatched the phone even as someone began speaking. Frodo would talk over him anyway. The boy wasn’t bright by Baggins’ clan standards, but he was eager to overcome any challenge and often succeeded by sheer will alone. Bilbo was eager to love him because of this trait, and that he was Primula’s all over again. He had beaten a few Baggins relatives senseless if they said otherwise, or more often, badmouthed Frodo’s intellect.

“Bilbo.” It was Primula, and her tone was distraught with the sniffing of crying.

“Prim?” Bilbo’s smile melted as he slid to sit on the floor, sitting only because he left the fridge open again and it blocked his path to complete collapse. “Frodo?” Neither were ones for many words during a crisis.

“Frodo is fine. He’s in his room.” Primula’s voice warbled as she tried to remain calm.

“Drogo?”  The fridge door was kicked closed with a slam and Bilbo lay looking up at the bland ceiling.

“Yesterday Drogo called to say that he would be late for dinner. He said that government agents were confiscating all of his files, practically everything in his office. He never came home, Bilbo.”

“Prim, I’m so sorry.” Bilbo felt a wave of guilt. The harmless ship stuck in Antarctica had turned into the latest scientific frenzy and made his harmless plan spectacularly backfire.

“Sometimes Drogo does get waylaid by his colleagues and stays in the artifact lab all night. I thought that they might be seeing what had been taken. I went to the university campus this morning, and there was no trace of him.” Now Primula’s sobs were unmistakable.

“What?!” Bilbo’s blood was boiling, his fists ready to bust a few faces.

“The odd thing was that even the department secretary claimed to not have seen Drogo all week. Drogo had class right by her office two days ago. I checked other departments and a graduate assistant in the physics lab finally admitted that several other professors in other fields had not been seen as well. He was ordered to take over a few undergrad classes and to keep his mouth shut as to why.”

“That…” This was odd. Mordor was ruled by a strict monarchy, but it wasn’t a totalitarian state ruled by fear. Its volcanic spring spas were world famous and the queen was known for her forward thinking and international charity generosity. But Bilbo would not put it past the king to grab experts and rush them to the craft site. Nothing would keep him from hoarding any secrets that his own experts discovered.

“This is all terrifying, but why take Drogo? He isn’t even tenured as an assistant instructor. All of the others that vanished were renowned experts with decades of experience.” Even heartbroken, Primula’s mind was as sharp as any other Old Took grandchild.

“Prim, I think this about that spacecraft.” Even full of guilt, Bilbo would not make the situation worse for his poor cousin by dumping a useless confession on her. “I’ll take care of this; don’t you worry.”

“Bilbo, we’re in Mordor. I don’t see how…”

“Primula, I want you to take Frodo to the airport right now. There will be a pair of tickets waiting for you at the Blue Mountain Airline customer service desk. Be on the next plane home. You know that you can get the key to Bag End from Hamfast. He’ll help you to settle in.”

“Bilbo, I can’t…” Bilbo hated Primula’s Brandybuck unreasonableness that she got from her father.

“Prim, some agents from the Rivendell International Enforcement Agency came to see me a few days ago. They thought that I was Dad for some reason, even called me Doctor believe it or not. I’ll call them and sort this all out and find Drogo, but for now I need to know that you and Frodo are safe. A flight leaves in an hour, just enough time if you leave now. Get a cab and give them a huge tip to speed. Just get on the flight!” Bilbo was finally able to sit up and was frantically searching websites.

“I can’t just leave our home.” Primula’s voice betrayed that she was sobbing uncontrollably, but Bilbo could hear her rummaging around and calling for Frodo.

“Bag End is your home. Frodo needs you to protect him.” Baggins bossiness sometimes came in handy.

“Your job is to keep my favorite nephew safe. Mine is to find Drogo. Be on that plane in 55 minutes.” Bilbo hung up.

Managing not to trip over the so called kitchen counter, his bed, or a few beer bottles, Bilbo sat on his bed while settling his laptop. With his cellphone pinned between his chin and shoulder, he found the airline’s direct number for the airport customer service. With a stretches of the truth and a genuine sob in his voice, Bilbo had the 2,347th sucker in his life helping him.

“Yes, ma’am. My cousin is recently widowed, but is in horrible denial. Please just meet her at the door and get her on that plane. She and her poor son need the support of our family right now.”

Ten minutes later a few wealthy business men lost their first class seats, a private cabin would arouse suspicion so Bilbo wouldn’t push things much further. Bilbo hung up listening to sniffle laced promises to see to “the poor dears” personally. Buying the customer representative a round trip ticket to her destination of choice “out of gratitude and worry for his nephew” hadn’t hurt either. Bilbo might not flaunt his worth, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t fling it around when called for. Mordor might be a restrictive monarchy, but it had far fewer regulations deeming things as bribery.

Family cared for, Bilbo pulled out Agent Escaar’s much doodled on business card. With a few guesses of a number up or down, he soon had Agent Taagan answering the phone.

“Where is Drogo?” Bilbo’s tendency for few words while stressed sometimes backfired and he tried to be polite. The man was his only lead to Drogo. “Um, Agent Taagen, hi…How are you? Where’s my effing cousin?”

“Mr. Bilbo Baggins, I assume. So nice to hear from you again.” Luckily Taagen wasn’t closed off like most Rivendell agents were reported to be. “Surprisingly, Modor was most happy to cooperate with us. Unfortunately, all I know is that your cousin is unavailable. He is part of an international group of scientists setting up shop by your ‘upside down mountain’ as I recall you describing it. I cannot divulge his part in it, but I will be gracious enough to pull a few favors and inquire as to how he is settling in. Would that be sufficient, Mr. Baggins.” Bilbo didn’t miss the stressed mister, the uppity wording, nor the unspoken request that was the price for such generosity.

“You want to search my parents’ home. Modor’s goons found nothing of interest in my Mother’s stuff that Drogo had.”

“If you would be so kind, yes.” How could such an arse sound so smug and polite at the same time? Bilbo didn’t ponder the problem; he knew that Taagen had the upper hand. He would deck the arse when his family was safe.

“I’m going to Brandywine Airport to pick up my cousin’s wife and son. We’ll meet you at Bag End.”

“I’ll pick you up and drive you myself, Mr. Baggins. I insist.”

“Bring dinner. It’ll be a long flight to wait for.” Bilbo hung up without waiting for an answer and began throwing clothes into his duffle bag, just as he finally tripped over the beer bottles. His headache would be from more than a hangover.


	8. Wake up! It's panic time, people!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf takes Thorin's words too literally on purpose. Frodo arrives safely, but that's the only good news as everything else goes wrong.

“Cryo chamber five revival process initializing.” Gandalf spoke in a loud, clear, official sounding voice. There was no one to hear him, as Thorin was too far into the second stage of waking up. He still liked to have the recordings of his actions be neat and orderly. He was as messy as a pack rat in life, but that was beside the point and he went back to observing the chambers in their various stages.

“Chief medical officer Oin’s cryo chamber has successfully entered stage one of cryonics revival. Six hours four minutes until commencement of stage two.” Gandalf was wary of the adult ‘children’ below as they had now built their encampment, so he had taken the liberty of awakening the five senior officers. Thorin would have objected, wanting to only waken personnel essential to the mining operation. For the safety of the ship and its crew, Gandalf wanted a few level heads to reason with; their captain was far too overprotective of his kin to be safely reasonable.

“Cryo chamber status update number three.” Gandalf continued to amuse himself partially with unnecessary update announcements and partially watching those below try to communicate using odd white boards that could be wiped clean.

“Cryo chamber five status: Chief Medical Officer Oin’s cryo chamber has five hours fifty minutes until stage two cryonics revival is initiated.” Gandalf went backwards. He didn’t like to be too neat and orderly, it was a sign of a damaged mind unable to adapt to new and unpredictable conditions. Gandalf’s fascination with all things unpredictable was one reason he had been chosen as a ship’s personality. It was the top reason that he had been chosen for the Kunzek. Durin’s Folk were notorious for being weird, to put it politely. The genetic engineer hired to streamline their clan DNA for spaceflight and exploration had gone mad and they reflected the influence at times.

“Cryo chamber four status: Mining Specialist Bofur’s cryo chamber has three hours four minutes until stage two cryonics revival is initiated.” Bifur was Chief Mining Officer, but Gandalf wanted a mining officer who wouldn’t heartily agree to any type of violence. They both had a majority of the Broadbeam clan genome type, but their small family unit had readily joined the mission with the Longbeards with their essential mining experience.  

Thror hadn’t been thrilled to take on crew not even related by marriage, but the fresh genetic material was highly desirable and they had eventually made marriage ties through Bombur. Though he was a hydrologist by trade, Bombur loved to head the cooking level after an unfortunate encounter with the Mogin system asteroid belt. Gandalf would wait; the crew could burn their own food for a time. The ship’s personality couldn’t afford to awaken and put at risk any more personnel than absolutely necessary. Bombur was critical to have awake if they needed their water expert or the crew set the kitchens on fire, again.

“Cryo chamber three…” Gandalf stopped. One of those down below had written something interesting. They had listed their own numerals on a wipe board and added hands. Gandalf smiled as he learned 0 -10 in their form of writing in two seconds, versus them taking two days to figure out what was wanted. He manipulated the panel to show the numbers 54 and 888 in their own numerals. Perhaps Thorin wouldn’t be woken too soon after all.

An internal alarm went off. Now Gandalf was following protocol as he spoke. “Cryo chamber eleven malfunction. Commencing emergency revival procedure two.”

“Cryo chamber eleven containing Junior Officer Kili has experienced an abrupt warming sequence. I suspect a faulty thermal coupler. Waiting for confirmation by Chief Engineer Dori after his complete revival.” If Kili’s cryogenic fluid bag wasn’t drained immediately, he was in danger of drowning.

Gandalf took over the automated process and began to manually get the young lad into phase two. He let out a relieved sigh as the mind integration was completed and the body was freed of the fluid bag in an acceleration to phase three.

Kili was still underage, but he was the youngest member of the command tier, and would be the first to wake by a day. Gandalf had no real use for him, but perhaps he could cook better than Gloin with his watery soup?

\----

Agent Taagen was true to his word, arriving with a bag of burgers and a tray of coffee in the front passenger seat. Little was said as they traveled across Shire cities and finally reached Brandywine Airport, named for the river that was the shipping heart of the Shire.

Bilbo looked up at the multiple boards. The flight from Mordor was on time and their own trip had eaten away a good chunk of the wait time. Checking in at the Blue Mountain service desk confirmed that the tickets had been issued and the seats were filled. It was only after they were at the gate and waiting in the uncomfortable seats that Bilbo spoke.

“So, what aren’t you supposed to tell me, Agent? No tip needed this time.”

“Shame. I could use a stiff drink right now.” Taagen sighed and shrugged. “I’ve been with the agency for twenty-two years and a senior officer for eight. Not I, nor anyone two levels over me knows what’s truly going on beyond what the tv is droning on about.”

“That’s not comforting.” Bilbo tried for the umpteenth time to text and call Primula. She probably had her cellphone on airplane mode, but she had promised to call before getting on the plane. There had been no call, no text. She never didn’t do what she said she would do.

“Any luck?” Taagen showed mild interest for lack of something else to do. He had been able to confirm that Drogo was on the list of scientists, but it was little consolation until Bilbo could tell Primula himself.

Bilbo settled back as well as he could in the plastic seat. Head lolled back, he began to snore.

“Uncle Bilbo!” The familiar cry woke Bilbo with a head snap. Aching neck, head and all, he was on his feet and scooping up his nephew. Frodo was the first off of the plane with a smiling flight attendant.

“Your nephew was perfectly behaved. He got to meet the captain…”

“I got wings, Uncle Bilbo.” Frodo crowed and proudly showed off the plastic wings stuck to his hoodie with cheap adhesive.

“Frodo, where is your mother?” Bilbo saw other passengers coming in. He then saw a red ‘unescorted minor child’ tag on Frodo’s little wrist.

“Mama met a security officer just before we got to the boarding gate. He said that she was lost, but she put me on the airplane anyway.” Frodo’s face screwed up with worry. “She said that she had to check the luggage and would get on later. One of the nice crew ladies said that she was going to take the next plane out and would be coming in a few hours after me. Is she alright, Uncle Bilbo?”

“I’m going to find out.” Agent Taagen answered for Bilbo and rushed into the covered ramp walkway, pushing against the flow of people eager to get off of a long flight.

“Uncle?” Frodo looked ready to cry.

“Come on Frodo. Let’s get you through customs and find your suitcase.” Bilbo didn’t show his worry as he found both Frodo and Primula’s passports in his little backpack. He gripped his nephew a little harder, rushing to get the suitcase and perhaps some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy so many chapters in as many days. The next update won't be til midweek, as I have a few places to go to and will be returning to work after vacation.


End file.
